


This Time

by haveyouseenmyuser



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pining Louis, Smut, This might hurt a little
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-14 02:06:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10526619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haveyouseenmyuser/pseuds/haveyouseenmyuser
Summary: “Harry… go down on me, will you?”…Of course, it takes a long time for them to get there. As is the pattern of these occasions.Long enough for Louis to not really have time to process all of it, before Harry kisses once more, at his inner thigh, as though to steady himself. And Louis takes a deep breath in, because he knows that when he breathes out, everything will have changed.-This isn’t the start of something new. Just a one shot that never quite got finished, and I don’t like having unposted words hanging around.Larry. All lies. NSFW. Probably NSFFs, but it isn’t a disaster zone either.





	

“Harry… go down on me, will you?”

…

Of course, it takes a long time for them to get there. As is the pattern of these occasions.

Long enough for Louis to not really have time to process all of it, before Harry kisses once more, at his inner thigh, as though to steady himself. And Louis takes a deep breath in, because he knows that when he breathes out, everything will have changed.

Harry’s tongue slides over him, before pointing and flicking over his opening once, twice, and Louis' gasping, because Harry isn’t messing around at  _ all _ .

“Jesus, Harry-”

Harry removes his mouth, and looks up at him, blowing a gentle breath over Louis circumspectly in a way that has Louis twitching.

“Do you want me to stop?”

It’s said with a grin, and Louis shakes his head, even though part of him wants to say  _ yes, come here _ , so that Harry will crawl back up to him and kiss him and Louis could wrap his arms around him and tell him that he loves him and that he’s always loved him, and-

“No.”

No. Too much. That’s Louis' problem, he always feels too much too soon and sex  _ can _ be intimate without being love, he reminds himself sternly.

Not this time.

Harry touches him again, and again, before settling into a rhythm, and Louis worries about feeling too much, and tries to concentrate on the physicality of it, because if he lets the emotions reign then he’ll be in love before he knows it.

And then he’ll be fucked, in the not so fun, not so literal, manner of speaking.

It’s just that Harry always feels so good against him, as though Louis' skin is reacting differently to Harry, as though it is saying  _ yes, this is who we were waiting for _ .

Harry grips at his hips, and then adjusts his position, and Louis thinks that Harry should be somehow really bad at this, because he likes to pretend that sex is somehow for other people, and this is going to be just a drunken mistake, in the morning. But Louis is so worked up that the orgasm is approaching really quickly, and Louis grips at the bed sheets because he really just needs something to hang on to, and holding the back of Harry’s head feels too intimate. Which is  _ ridiculous _ , when the context is considered.

Harry laughs against him, and looks up again, and Louis barely restrains his hips from rising up to meet him.

“This isn’t weird – is that weird? Like, I feel like this should be weird, maybe, but instead it’s just… I like it, you know?”

Louis doesn’t know, except it sounds like Harry is describing a new kind of spa treatment, or something equally bland, while Louis is on the verge of losing his mind, underneath him.

Louis wonders if he should feel embarrassed, but it is past midnight, and Harry was moaning into his mouth as Louis fucked him with his fingers, not so long ago, so he thinks they’re probably beyond that.

“Harry… can you just-”

Harry smiles again, and lowers his head, flicking his tongue over Louis playfully.

“Sorry.”

Louis groans, and tips his head back.

“How do you keep getting distracted…?”

Harry shrugs, biting at Louis' thigh in a move that has him gasping.

“You’re distracting- now hold still will you; I’m trying to rock your world.”

He’s just a dork, Louis thinks. A beautiful, beautiful dork that Louis doesn’t stand a chance against, not if Harry is going to smile like that before putting his mouth on him like  _ that _ , and  _ oh _ .

Oh.

Oh  _ god _ .

…

Three hours earlier.

…

“Fuck…fuck… Louis come dance! Come and dance with me!”

It’s a good song, and Louis recognises it as Harry’s current obsession, because Harry gets stuck on songs sometimes, and repeats, repeats, repeats…

Harry is beckoning at Louis, smile painted wide, hips already swaying. And Louis wonders if it is possible to get stuck on people.

And repeats, repeats, repeats…

…

Harry is so warm, so so warm, underneath his fingertips, and Louis can’t understand it.

That sounds more depraved that the situation actually merits, because the skin that his fingertips are touching is just the smooth stretch at the underneath of Harry’s forearm. Harry nods a few times when Louis touches him, but he maintains eye contact with the guy who is talking to him for another ten seconds, even though Louis can tell he isn’t listening to him. This guy has a popped collar and a general air of terrible, and has been talking to him now for a solid twenty minutes, in this bar that isn’t the first bar, anymore (when was the first bar?)

But when Harry looks at Louis it is with a smile so wide that even collar guy must know that this is a lost cause.

“Want to go?”

“Where?”

“Somewhere that isn’t here.”

“Just you and me?”

“Yeah, if you like? Unless you want -”

Louis hasn’t even finished his thought before Harry is reaching for the hand, squeezing once and smiling at him like that. And maybe Louis is drunk enough, or maybe he is just hopeful enough, or just hopeless enough, to think that Harry doesn’t smile like that at anyone other than him.

…

When Harry leans on the corridor wall, just next to Louis' door, Louis knows that he’s about to get hit by the problem, coming at him at high speed.

“I’ve lost my key card.”

Louis laughs despite the look of extreme misery etched on Harry’s face, and then shushes himself.

“No you haven’t, you haven’t even looked in your bag.”

Harry shrugs, watching the motions of Louis' fingers, as he fumbles suddenly at his own square of plastic.

“I have. Gone forever. Can I sleep with you tonight?”

The key card co-operates, and the door swings open. Louis breathes out a nervous sigh, trying to remember who he is, and who Harry is, and who Harry  _ isn’t _ .

“Jeez, Harry, buy a guy a drink first…”

Harry frowns at him, and then kisses him, and  _ holy hell _ Louis is going to need more warning than that if he is to have any chance of responding sensibly.

The kiss is insistent, as though Harry is trying to put the decision making part of the process behind him, and move on to the part that involves the repercussions, where all control has been lost.

The momentum of such a poor decision takes them both through the door, and Louis is being pulled towards Harry, who leans on the wall and  _ looks _ at Louis with eyes full of challenge.

“I did buy you a drink.”

Louis tries, he really does try, in that moment. He tries to think, and remember why not, but all he has is a list full of why’s and a heart full of excuses.

At least they’d be fucking up together. At least there’s a shared responsibility, to this latest disaster. At least they’ve not been found out yet.

When he kisses Harry, it’s one part terror and nine parts  _ finally _ .

And no moment is completely perfect.

Not in the reality that Louis occupies.

…

Six hours later.

…

There’s sunlight, and traffic noise, and a headache.

Louis rolls to his side, trying to find the glass of water he normally leaves on his bedside table.

When it isn’t there, Louis comes to the conclusion that something unusual must have happened last night, and that’s when he remembers why there is a stiffness to his muscles, and why he isn’t wearing any clothes.

He rolls back, trying to steady his movements, but it doesn’t matter, because Harry is awake.

And wearing clothes.

And sitting on the edge of the bed.

Modesty kicks in, and Louis pulls the sheet up to his chin, as Harry meets his eye briefly, and smiles, softly, but so, so briefly, before speaking.

“I don’t regret it.”

Louis thinks he could be okay, if that was the end of the conversation. But he knows it isn’t.

“But we should probably try and forget that this one happened. Because…”

Louis nods, because Harry hasn’t left much room for disagreement. And besides, it’s probably for the best.

“Probably for the best.” Louis echoes his own thoughts, while Harry nods and succeeds in not looking at Louis much at all. The traffic noise seems to get louder in the silence, and Louis' head  _ aches _ .

Harry’s fingers are playing with his own keycard, and Louis bites back a comment about Harry finding it, because that was never really the point, and they both knew what they were doing.

“I should go pack. I’ll see you downstairs, okay?”

Louis nods again, dumb, even though it won’t be the Harry that he wants to see, downstairs. It won’t be the one that shivers into Louis' touch and kisses him like he has seen the future and it is beautiful.

Harry smiles again, weakly, and then whispers, even though there is no-one else to hear. “Sorry - it was my fault. This time. Again.”

It wasn’t, is all that Louis can think. It was his own wretched heart and his own foolish optimism, which told him there was a chance that just maybe, things wouldn’t end as he feared.

Optimism is dumb, faith is blind, and hope is so, so stupid.

“No harm done” is the lie he says out loud, as something fragments, inside.

As Harry closes the door Louis wonders how easily  _ this time _ will heal.

**…**

**Author's Note:**

> Does this win the prize for the smuttiest opening line ever?   
> I think it should.   
> Apologies for any feels.


End file.
